Rohypnol
by Link Fangirl01
Summary: "You met mommy by saving her from becoming a noodle?" In which a man in charge of his own bar saves a young woman from being roofied by her creepy date. AKA: the Bartender AU no one asked for. Rated T for attempted drug use and mention of rape.


HEEEEEYY, A NEW ONESHOT! Lemme just say that I own nobody, not even the kids. Those two are property of a friend I admire very much and are used with her permission. DuskBlue over on Instagram, her art is pretty freaking incredible. Check it out.

Also, this is based off a story I read once on the web. Fun fact.

* * *

Bartender.

Well there were worse career options to pursue, he supposed. The building wasn't big, but it was clean and it was his. Branch (his real name was Bryan but no one aside from his parents had ever called him that) was a tall, dark, and downright sarcastic man whose adolescent talents for making herbal remedies had somehow landed him in charge of his own bar. It was the mixing. He'd taken an elective in college for raw funsies and the professor had been rather impressed by the drinks his sudden star pupil was throwing together. He'd actually nearly thrown Branch off his seat, insisting the then teenager had a lucrative future as a bartender.

So here he was, cleaning out glasses at his very own counter in his very own bar. Branch had originally started out, three years ago, making drinks elsewhere, but he'd been fired for making his own and serving them when the customer asked for something different. Ironically, it was that incident that spurred him into getting his own place. The black-haired man served what everyone who frequented the bar scene would be familiar with, with a selection of drinks he'd invented himself.

It made the place very popular. His grandmother, rest her soul, had joked about people coming to roost at "the branch", and when she died shortly after Branch got the building, he named it "The Roost" in honor of her. It made the bar seem more welcoming to those coming in for a drink after work, which ended up being good for continued business.

A cheerful bell rang out above the entrance, hailing the arrival of his most useful employee. A half-Japanese girl with big dreams of being a professional DJ, or so she said. Suki certainly seemed happy enough sharing in his modest success and she was good at making the ambience cheerful with her mixes.

"I swear, if you kick off with Timberlake's new hit again, I'm gonna fire you." She laughed at him, moving past the bar and to the music station set up in the corner.

"You love me too much. I'll only play it if someone asks, deal?" Suki loved taking requests from and interacting with the nightly crowd. Branch began setting up ingredients.

"Deal. Did you flip the sign?"

"No" the DJ said breezily, tying up red hair that contrasted greatly with her Asian features. "I thought I'd wait till you noticed and enjoy my free time." Her boss slapped a rag down on the counter, looking up with a snarl on his lips, only to realize the sign had in fact been flipped to "open" and Suki was yanking his chain.

Again.

"You suck, you know that?"

"I do" she agreed merrily. "But you make it so easy!" Branch scowled at her and dropped down on his favorite stool to await customers.

"Troll."

"Proud of it" the redhead snarked, pulling on a custom pair of headphones and blocking out the world around her. Her boss took the opportunity to blow an obnoxious raspberry.

As it went most nights, business started trickling in ten to fifteen minutes later. Regulars he saw every night who greeted him by nickname, with the occasional newbie. Amongst the former, at eight o'clock sharp every night, was his oldest customer. The man ran a successful party business and the drawn face he came in with made it look like the most stressful job in the world. Branch greeted it with his own patented deadpan stare, wiping out a glass.

"Stressful day of cake-testing, Mr. Toronto?"

"I'm not paying for your sass" the middle-aged man snapped, pulling up a barstool. "An Old-Fashioned, make it snappy."

"Snappier than you?" Yet he was already dumping a teaspoon of sugar into the recently cleaned glass and covering it with two small dashes of Angostura bitters. Mr. Toronto watched with hungry eyes as two ounces of rye whiskey were added and the drink stirred. Branch grinned a little. Despite their exchange, the two men got along fine and the CEO was one of his best customers.

"When you gonna hire a chef, boy?" The young bartender added a single ice cube and stirred again, decorating the drink with a fancy orange garnish and pushing it with two fingers to the man who'd ordered it.

"When people stop coming here for just drinks. Suki and I can't cook worth spit."

"I heard that!" his DJ yelled over the starting notes of the popular "Shut Up and Dance". Branch spared a second to stick his tongue out, this time when she could see.

"If you have a chef you're trying to get rid off, because he's not "reaching for the sky"" he said semi-sarcastically, turning his attention back to his conversation partner "feel free to send him our way. I'm sure cupcakes are just what the drinks need." The businessman actually looked a little pensive, downing his drink in one go and politely refraining from slamming the glass back on the wooden countertop.

"I'll find you a chef and draw up a menu" he declared. "Make me another."

"I won't share the profits." Branch began the process over, barely looking at his hands as they worked. Mr. Toronto nodded in understanding or agreement.

"Anything to help a fellow business owner" he said sagely, and the younger male rolled his eyes.

"I underestimated your generosity." The sarcasm rolled off his tongue in waves. His customer wasn't phased, which was part of the reason they got along so well.

"You always do" the older man retorted, and Branch actually had to laugh.

"Anything else?"

"I'll think about it." Mr. Toronto downed his second glass and pulled his phone out, waving the bartender away. It was a brusque dismissal, but no more than the dark-haired male expected. He cast bright blue eyes over the growing crowd, people chattering and dancing and generally having a good time. Several regulars brought their own food and a number of them had a private party set up in the corner. Branch had just mixed up a classic Margarita for an eager boy named Aspen out on his first bar trip, when a pair from the aforementioned gathering came over, arm in arm and giving off an air of happiness. Keeping one lazy eye on them, the young bar owner lined the rim of his current glass with salt and passed it to its owner. He pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and scrawled a number on it, pressing it into Aspen's eager hands.

"Cooper'll come take you home if you're too drunk to make it, but try not to overdo things." The blond boy gave him a grin.

"Just a little tipsy, sir, but thanks." He shoved the paper deep into a pocket and bravely downed the shot. Branch laughed at the expression he made and filled a larger glass with water, setting it on the polished wooden surface.

"I advise trying something sweeter next time." Aspen guzzled the water, desperate to ease the burning in his throat.

"I'll keep that in mind!" His bartender smirked, not unkindly, and moved to attend the couple at the end of the bar. The male of the pair, with long blond hair that could almost be platinum, gave him a smile that made Branch's own start to turn down. His companion, a pretty brunette with pink-tipped hair, was the exact opposite. She wore a short blue-green dress over capris, a complimenting headband, and the sparkle in her deep brown eyes looked like all the happiness in the world was contained in this one lovely girl.

Branch subtly shook himself. Okay, she was pretty. Lots of girls were. Though lots of girls didn't have that sparkle, or smile that encouraged you to smile back, or-STOP. He looked back at the man, whose off-smile did a great job of clearing away the brain fog caused by his pretty companion. The blond wore cargo khakis and an ordinary shirt emblazoned with the emblem for "peace" that had been popularized by the sixties. The other male forced his face into a welcoming expression. Hippie.

"What can I get you?"

"Oh I think we'll settle for two Moscow Mules today" said the man with a placid smile. "Can you do that?" How did he manage to come off so insulting when they hadn't even been properly introduced? Branch's welcoming look took on a sharp edge.

"I think I can manage."

"Of course you can" agreed the brunette, smiling brightly. "You run your own bar for goodness' sake!" She threw her arms out, looking happily impressed. "This place is beautiful, by the way." The young barkeep's face softened into a genuine smile.

"Thanks." He fetched two copper mugs, used exclusively for this drink, from the cabinets behind him. Rather than do it completely from scratch, Branch took a bottle of lime juice and squirted half an ounce into each each mug. The man for whom one of the mugs was intended wrinkled his nose.

"That's unprofessional."

"I squeezed it myself" the older man retorted. "Feel free to leave if you don't like my methods." The blond gave him an ugly look, but didn't move, and Branch smiled victoriously. The pretty brunette next to him slapped his arm, looking appalled.

"Creek, be nice!" She smiled apologetically at the barkeep.

"Please forgive Cyrus, he doesn't mean to be so rude." Branch seriously doubted that, dropping a few ice cubes into each mug. "I'm Poppy, by the way."

"Pretty name" the black-haired man said before he could stop himself, and she gave a pleased giggle. "Call me Branch." Poppy tilted her head curiously.

"Is that your real name?"

"Nickname" Branch told her with a chuckle. "My parents weren't hippies." Cyrus twitched.

"What is your real name?" he asked with bland politeness.

"None of your business" the other man said bluntly, pouring in two ounces of vodka per mug. "Only my parents get to call me it." A few seats down, Aspen sniggered into his water. Cyrus smoothed his expression over, that placid smile reasserting itself.

"Of course, forgive me." The black-haired barkeep gave him a curt nod, filling both mugs to the brim with ginger beer.

"Here." He plunked one mug down in front of the man Poppy called Creek, and gently handed the other to the brunette herself. She gave him a sunny smile and Branch's heart did a funny flop in his chest cavity.

Man, she was pretty.

"You guys here on a date?" he asked, catching the shot glass Aspen sent sailing back to him. Poppy blushed prettily and bashfully grinned at her companion. He smiled back, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Something about that smile did not sit right with the young barkeep. He hid his concerns behind a careless smile of his own and swiftly cleaned the shot glass in his hand, turning to put it away. Branch carefully left the glass fronted cabinet door ajar, allowing him to see what Poppy and Cyrus were up to. He busied himself arranging drink ingredients and subtly watched for suspicious activity.

It wasn't anything unusual at first. They murmured quietly to each other like a dating pair would, sipping their drinks and trading smiles over the rim. It was strangely sickening to watch, and Branch couldn't figure out why. Sure she was a pretty girl his own age with a genuinely sweet disposition, but if she wanted to date this creepy guy, that was her business.

There was no conceivable way he was jealous.

Poppy reached over to Cyrus' free hand, giving it a squeeze and excusing herself. His eyes followed her as she went and Branch began mixing more drinks as a means to continue stalling. It was also good to have some on standby when more people began clamouring for alcohol.

His gaze was still fixed on the hippie's reflection when the blond pulled a round white pill out of his pocket and dropped it into his date's drink with a barely audible *plop*. Red alerts began going off in the dark-haired bartender's head when the pill rapidly dissolved. Rohypnol. A fairly infamous date-rape drug. If Creep thought he was going to get away with this, the freak had another thing coming. Branch patiently waited until the blond had spun his stool to watch the crowd, turned, and silently switched the drinks. Aspen was still nursing his glass of water and evidently the twenty-one year old had been watching his bartender at work. The older male moved back towards him in case Cyrus turned back around.

"Anything else?" The dirty blond boy shook with muffled laughter, brown eyes dancing.

"I'll have what they're having." Branch knew full well the younger male had just seen him switch drinks, seen the hippie slip the roofie in, and he was about to bust a gut laughing. The dark-haired man grinned.

"Sure, no problem." They chatted while Branch made another Moscow Mule, watching Cyrus out of the corner of his eye the whole time, and the dark-haired man found out his conversation partner was actually an accomplished skateboarder. It was an activity he himself had once enjoyed, mainly as a child, and Aspen eventually talked him into paying a visit to the park downtown. Branch scribbled another number down, this time his own, and slapped it on the countertop.

"Text me whenever. You still good?" The younger adult held his mug up with a satisfied grin.

"Still good." Branch gave him a friendly grin back and watched as Poppy returned, sliding onto her stool with a light kiss to the cheek for the man who tried drugging her. The watching male bit the inside of his cheek.

Cyrus returned the affectionate gesture with a grin and nose tap and took a long draught of his drink. Poppy giggled at him and took a decent swallow of her own, enjoying the taste of the ginger that made up most of it. She turned a bright smile on Branch.

"This is really good, thank you. Where'd you learn to brew?"

"Oh it was just something I've always had a knack for" he said with a shrug, watching Cyrus's eyes begin to slide out of focus. "I took an elective in college for the hell of it and my professor almost demanded I go into the business of making drinks." The brunette laughed, pink tipped ponytail swaying slightly with the motion.

"I guess that's one way to decide on a career" she said with a grin, and he grinned back. The blond hippie next to her took another long drink, sucking on the rim of his mug with a loud slurping sound.

Aspen was losing it, hunched over the counter and shaking with silent laughter. No one noticed Mr. Toronto still at his stool, filling out paperwork with his phone casually propped against his arm, the camera facing outwards. One lazy hand sent both his empty shot glasses back to the bartender and Branch absently began cleaning them without taking his eyes off the girl in front of him.

"So you guys from here?" She gave him a funny smile.

"My dad's the mayor, so yeah." Coughing erupted a few seats over, and the brunette looked over in surprised concern.

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine" the other adult assured her, knowing his new friend was laughing for an entirely different reason. "So you're Poppy Conroy, huh? I...I didn't recognize you." Her smile turned warm.

"I'm glad, it's always nice to be treated like just another person." Branch's heart did another funny flop. A seat over, the Rohypnol had taken full affect and a lifeless Cyrus slid right of his stool with a loud thud. The noise made those within earshot jump, and Poppy leapt off her stool to check on him.

"Creek!"

"He's fine, young miss" Mr. Toronto assured her, causing heads to turn. The middle aged man picked his phone up, tapped the screen, and called for his personal chauffeur. "I'll have him taken home." She looked slightly confused.

"Who are you?"

"Skye Toronto" he said briskly. "You may know me from the business dinner hosted at your manor last month." Poppy blushed.

"Sorry sir, I didn't recognize you." He waved a hand, the other firing off a text.

"One doesn't expect a CEO like myself to frequent the bar scene. I understand."

"It's not like you make an effort to disguise yourself" Branch snarkily cut in, lifting a wooden slat and coming out from around his bar. "Here, let me help you." He pulled one of Cyrus' limp arms over his shoulders while Poppy did the same. Together they carried him to a mercifully empty booth and sat down to wait for the car. Poppy brushed a blond strand out of his eyes, looking concerned.

"He never goes down after so little, I wonder what happened?" Branch contemplated telling her her date had roofied himself in a drugging attempt that had horribly backfired. She was liable to be upset and reluctant to believe him, so he regretfully refrained from doing so.

"I can't say, but he'll be all right." It was just a sedative. "Are you gonna go home too?" She blew a brown strand out of her eyes.

"I'm worried about Creek, but the rest of my friends are still here, and I know Mr. Toronto will take care of him…am I a bad friend?" He noticed she didn't say girlfriend.

"I was under the impression you two were a thing." Poppy looked down at the table, hands twisting in her lap.

"This was our first date" she admitted. "I told Creek I had a crush on him and he offered to take me out. Can't say I expected it to be to a bar, but I'm glad I found this place." One of Branch's hands curled into a fist even as he gave her a thankful smile for the compliment. The first date, and Cyrus was planning to rape the girl. Sicko.

"Maybe a bartender's opinion doesn't carry much weight" he admitted. "But why don't you stick around? Bring your party to the bar. If you want, Suki'll play any song you ask for. She loves taking requests."

Like she was reading his innermost desires and Poppy's taste in music all at once, the DJ in question put on a song by a popular actress and the brunette began almost unconsciously slapping the table to the beat.

"I got my ticket for the long way round, two bottle of whiskey for the way…"

"And I sure would like some sweet company, and I'm leaving tomorrow whaddya say?" Poppy's face lit up at Branch's baritone voice following up with the next line. He grinned at her.

"Well?" she grinned back

"I guess I can stick around a while."

A traitorous blush tinted the barkeep's face and he prayed the pretty brunette sitting across the table didn't notice. Her hands strayed back to the table surface, hitting the wood in time to the song's complicated beat and Branch was more than happy to join in, knowing now he would have her company for a while yet. Palms smacked the wooden table in time with each other, lifted to clap against their partners, and slapped their opposites to each clap from Suki's station. They were unintentionally putting on a bit of a show and interested customers from all over the bar came to watch. Poppy's big brown eyes were sparkling and staring into Branch's bright blues, which were shining with an honest happiness. Before he knew it, he was singing again.

"I got my ticket for the long way round, the one with the prettiest of views. It's got mountains, it's got rivers-"

"-it's got sights to give you shivers" she sang along, perfectly in harmony and grinning harder than she had all night. "But it sure would be prettier with you."

"When I'm gone."

"When I'm go~one"

"You're gonna miss me when I'm go~one"

"You're gonna miss me by my walk, you're gonna miss me by my talk-"

"-oh you're gonna miss me when I'm gone."

They sang it twice more, hands never missing a beat, and when the song ended, Branch's hit the table first. They turned over, palms up, just in time to catch Poppy's. Cheering erupted from the audience around them, but even it couldn't distract from the tingling both adults could feel. Poppy lightly wrapped her fingers around Branch's and gave his hands a squeeze before letting go. He couldn't help the irrational thought of wishing she hadn't before she pulled away.

"That was AWESOME!" Both their heads jerked up, seeing amongst the crowd of watchers, people with whom Poppy was very familiar. She gave them a big smile.

"Hi guys!" They happily returned the greeting, and the tallest one grinned right at a surprised Branch.

"Cooper?" He waved, bright blue dreadlocks contrasting sharply with his dark skin.

"Hey dude, Uber gave me the night off."

"Why didn't you tell me?" The black man shrugged as the chattering audience began to disperse, throwing compliments on the performance over their shoulders.

"I'unno. Hey what happened to Creek?" This drew the attention of the rest of the Pack and they began chattering concernedly. Poppy's expression softened and she reached over to stroke the drugged hippie's hair again.

"He evidently had too much to drink, the Moscow Mule was too much for him." A short female butted her way through the legs of her friends, peering at the blond.

"He looks drugged" she observed in a shockingly deep voice. A suspicious look was sent Branch's way.

"What'd you put in his drink?" The barkeep gave her a glare.

"Same stuff I put in Poppy's, she was there."

"I watched him mix them" the brunette said soothingly "and I'm fine. Branch didn't drug Creek." The man bit his tongue to avoid agreeing with this statement and saying that Cyrus had drugged himself.

"Course he didn't drug the man" Skye Toronto's voice interrupted from behind them. He didn't bother acknowledging their stares, answering an incoming phone call.

"Good, he's right here. I'll give you the address when you get in." A single tap ended the call and the CEO dropped the device in his pocket, turning to the group of friends.

"The fool drugged himself." Branch leapt up.

"Skye!" The older man gave him a stern look.

"Son, if I know you, you'd never tell Miss Conroy what actually happened. Frankly, she needs to know." The dark-haired bartender sank back down into his seat, groaning. Poppy leaned forward, looking concerned.

"What actually happened? Branch, what's he talking about?" The male growled under his breath, refusing to meet her eyes for fear of what he'd see.

"I saw him drop Rohypnol in your drink while you were gone" he admitted, to a lot of gasping from the adults around. "As soon as he turned around, I switched the mugs, so he roofied himself." Poppy sat back, stunned.

Roofie. The slang term for the Rohypnol Branch had mentioned, which was an infamous date rape drug. Cyrus had tried to… She looked up and over at the impassive man of party business.

"Did you see him?" He handed her his phone.

"I took a video."

The brunette took the device with a shaky hand and watched what Mr. Toronto had cleverly recorded. Her friends gathered behind her to watch as well. Branch stayed where he was, trying not to sink even farther into the booth seat. The black-haired man wasn't ashamed of what he did by any means, but he didn't want to see Poppy mad at him for it.

The girl herself mutely watched herself squeeze Cyrus's hand and get up. She'd not been gone for more than a minute when her date fished a white pill from his pocket and casually dropped it into her mug. He wore a satisfied and slightly smug look as he did, turned as though to make sure she wasn't coming back, and spun his stool to watch the crowd. Some ten seconds after he did, Branch's hands made an appearance and swapped the mugs around. He left and moved farther down the bar to chat with the boy she'd seen have a coughing fit. The older man's head was turned slightly and one barely visible blue eye was watching Cyrus. Unaware, the blond stayed in his position until Poppy herself came back. The brunette watched herself sit down and kiss her date on the cheek before engaging Branch in conversation. They chatted happily for a few minutes and only now did she notice Cyrus gradually losing focus and motor function as he drank deeply from what he thought was a clean mug. Very soon, the blond man toppled from his seat and the video ended when she leapt up with a screech and heard Mr. Toronto's reassurance that he was okay.

"I'm sorry." Poppy placed the phone down in the table, stunned at what the man she had a crush on tried to do.

"What?" Branch was sorry? What on earth for? He'd saved her, a perfect stranger. The brunette slid out of her seat and circled the table to sit next to the abashed looking barkeep. He didn't seem to want to look at her, but didn't resist when she slid a slender hand under his chin and gently forced him to meet her eyes.

"Don't be" she said firmly, ignoring a man who could only be Mr. Toronto's chauffeur pass by and collect the drugged Cyrus. The CEO himself was heard giving instructions to the hippie's house, though how he knew was anyone's guess. The blond was ungracefully dragged out and his date didn't do so much as spare a concerned glance. After what he'd done, Poppy wasn't sure she'd ever be able to look at him again. Instead, her big brown eyes were fixed on the man who'd rescued her from a nasty fate.

"You saved me" she said, sincerely thankful. "I don't know why didn't tell me before, but I'm so grateful. Thank you, Branch." The pretty brunette leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his middle, cheek resting against his crisp work shirt. "Thank you so much..."

Shocked that this sweet, beautiful woman who he'd been doing his best not to develop any kind of crush on was hugging him, and moreover grateful for basically killing her date night, Branch's arms hung awkwardly at his sides for a few moments. When she sighed into his chest, brown hair tickling his chin, the young barkeep's upper limbs came unlocked and gently wrapped around Poppy's back to complete the embrace. He pulled her close, marveling in the back of his mind how right this felt.

Privately, the brunette was thinking the same thing. It was so strangely comforting to be held by this man she hadn't known a full night, he made her feel...safe. Was it because he'd saved her from being drugged? She didn't know. For propriety's sake, the young woman let go after a few precious moments, though if she were perfectly honest, she didn't want to. Branch was slow to release her, like he didn't want to either.

"So you're sticking around, right?" Poppy laughed out loud, a bright sparkling sound.

"I'll stay all night if you'll have me" she said with a grin, sliding out of the seat so he could get out. He gave her a half grin back and stood, stretching.

"Well the bar is open for you and your friends, though I can't say drinks are on the house." He glanced over at his oldest and perhaps best customer. "What about you? Sticking around?" It was by now a little after nine. Mr. Toronto stuck his hands in his pockets like a contemplating businessman, fishing out a handful of bills and tossing them at the barkeep.

"Consider it on the house. I'll be back tomorrow." Branch looked at the money in his fist, stunned.

"S-Skye…" The CEO flapped a hand at him and promptly left the building to wait for his driver, calling over his shoulder.

"Don't get used to it!"

The door closed with a soft click and the group of adults stood there in surprise for a moment. Abruptly, Cooper burst into song.

"Party rock is in the hoooouuse tonight, everybody just have a good time!" The lanky black man began dancing his way to the DJ. "First dibs on song request!" His five friends followed after, chattering and throwing out suggestions. And, in the case of the smallest girl, demanding a fight to see who really got first pick. Poppy giggled at their antics, glancing somewhat shyly at her new friend. For how could they part ways as strangers after what he'd done for her? Branch was watching her with a curiously soft smile, a sight which made her heart flutter for some reason.

"I guess drinks are on you after all" she managed, and he snorted.

"Apparently. Think they'll meet you at the bar?"

"Even if they don't, I'd rather talk to you" the brunette admitted. "Do you mind?" The young barkeep valiantly fought off a blush.

"That's fine. I, uh, have a few drinks of my own invention. You wanna try one?" Poppy's face lit up, making her impossibly prettier.

"I'd love to!" She skipped off to the bar, and the blush Branch had been trying to restrain broke free of its imaginary bonds to splash over his swarthy skin.

Someday soon, he decided, following after with his hands in his pockets, he was gonna ask her out.

* * *

Thirteen years later:

"You saved her!" a child's voice gushed. Branch and Poppy shared a look and the male smirked at his wife of eleven years.

"She's definitely your kid." She laughed helplessly, pulling their older child into a side hug. Lewis, who'd listened with some interest, was busily coloring in a pocket sized notebook. His little sister, who took after their mom in looks but was by far more like Branch in personality, peered up at her parents from her seat on Branch's knee.

"But Daddy, what's a roofie?" Said parent's dark skin paled considerably. Poppy muffled her laughter with a fist, brown eyes dancing.

"It's…" he pulled at his color. "...it's a sedative. Makes you go all loopy and limp. Like this." The man, who hadn't quit bartending after all these years, let himself collapse on his five year old daughter. She giggled and squirmed, trying to get free.

"Daddy, you're crushing me!"

"I can't help it, gravity is increasing!" Poppy and her son, who'd been born Lewis Wood but was commonly called Leaf for the collection he had taped all over his windows, laughed out loud at Branch's antics. The now thirty-nine year old eventually let his daughter up, scooping the five year old into his arms.

"The important thing is that I saved Mommy from turning into a limp noodle. She was so grateful that she agreed to marry me right there." Little Lacie, who'd been nicknamed Lavender after her favorite color, wrinkled her nose.

"Daddy, you're lying. Cuz Leaf is only ten." The boy in question grinned. Branch swooped in and kissed his daughters little brown forehead.

"Oh you're too smart for me. All right...but that is the day I fell for her. Took a bit to ask her out, though." Even Leaf, who was every inch a boy in personality, smiled at that. Poppy hugged him close, gazing adoringly at her husband.

She remembered well the day they met, when a tall, dark, and handsome barkeep saved her from getting roofied by a blond hippie who was more than he appeared. She'd gone to Cyrus' abode the next day to confront him about it, and when he had the gall to deny trying to drug her, she pulled up the video on YouTube.

Who knew the CEO of Toronto's "Party Business" had an account, or was immature enough to label the video as "Man roofies himself". Neither of them pegged him as the type to use slang…

Seeing he'd been caught red handed, Cyrus had tried apologizing, but a startlingly frosty glare from his date made the words die in his throat. She told him right then and there that they were done, and if he ever came near her again, she'd have him reported to the police.

Branch had advised getting a restraining order anyway, saying she could use the video as evidence to the reason why. Her friends all supported her, as none of them were feeling too kindly towards Cyrus for what he'd tried to do, so they took it to court and it happily went through. Branch finally mustered up the guts to ask her out on a coffee date a month after the order was set in place, and the speed with which the pretty brunette accepted almost gave him whiplash. One date became two, which became five, then ten...on the eleventh, he asked her to be his girlfriend and they married on the anniversary of their meeting, two years after that fateful night. Branch's bar kept them afloat, and Poppy put her management skills to good use by employing all her friends. Business had only gotten better with more hands on deck, and somewhere in the chaos of running a popular bar, the happily married couple welcomed two children into the fold. It was perhaps time to welcome a third, Poppy thought, rubbing her chin and still staring at her husband. He looked up from playing with Lavender.

"What?"

"Oh nothing" his wife chirped, grabbing his collar with one hand and pulling him forward. "Just…remembering." She kissed him softly, feeling the man melt under her touch. "I love you, Branch." He kissed her back, a little harder.

"I know" said the dark-skinned male, pulling away to rub noses with the brunette who was as beautiful now as the day they met, smiling at each other from across a polished bar. "I love you too."


End file.
